


Come Back When You Can

by SmoakingGreenArrow



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Al Sah Him - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amnesia, F/M, League of Assassins - Freeform, olicity - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-16
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-05-24 07:08:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14949939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmoakingGreenArrow/pseuds/SmoakingGreenArrow
Summary: Felicity Smoak had accepted that her husband is dead. She's done everything she could to hold her family, her team, her city, and herself together. But five years after losing her husband, Felicity learns that things didn't happen the way she thought they did. And when Oliver realizes that he was lied to, he's willing to do whatever it takes to get revenge on the people who took his life away.





	1. Part One

_Anonymous said:Would you consider writing a Olicity story AU were O &F were divorced bc5 years, 2 kids things went south, but then they have to be in the same space and feelings, onenightstand, more feelings, Oliver is engaged or something and Felicity is going to have their3child and doesn't know how to tell him, and he figures it out bc she has the same cravings of the other's pregnancies.well that's the request you are amazing writer_ 

A/N: Okay, this is the oldest prompt in my inbox and I tried to write something for it at least five times. Anon, I’m sure that this isn’t what you were thinking, but I realized that Olicity  _choosing_ to be apart just doesn’t strike my muse. I can’t picture them getting divorced and therefore hated every attempt I made at telling that story. So...my brain did this. I hope it’s close enough and that you still like it ;)

 

* * *

 

 

“Curtis,” Felicity said with a wave, jumping to her feet as soon as the clock changed to 5:00. She slung her bag over her shoulder and headed for the door, rushing to get out so she could do everything she needed to get done. 

Her friend shook his head at her, “we can manage without you tonight, Felicity. Take the night off.”

“I am taking the night off,” she frowned, “I just have to stop by the bunker and make sure Dig is all set to run the comms.”

Curtis gave her a look, “we both know I’m perfectly capable of of handling the tech. We  _are_ partners of Smoak  _Technologies_ , you know.”

Felicity threw him a wink over her shoulder. “Of course. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She really did plan on being quick. 

Luckily John Diggle wasn’t much of a talker anyway, so she didn’t have to worry about that. As soon as she came through the door, her partner smiled. “Hey,”

Smiling back, Felicity hurried around him, “hi, Dig,” she offered, patting him on the shoulder as she checked that all of the right cords were in the right places and set to the correct settings.

He raised an eyebrow at her, “I thought we agreed you would stay out of the bunker for today.”

“Noooo,” she answered, “ _you_ said I  _should_ stay out of the bunker.  _I_ said I would  _try_ to  _mostly_ stay out of the bunker.”

John leveled her with the same look as Curtis, and she laughed under her breath, wondering which one learned it from the other. “Look, you’re down here more than any of us. Even Dinah. And I’m pretty sure she sleeps here sometimes.”

“The cot in there is pretty comfortable,” she mumbled back, staring down at the screens in front of her. They both fell silent, knowing exactly when and with who she’d shared that bed with.

“Felicity,” Diggle said lowly; a familiar, parental tone in his voice that she recognized. And hated. It made her shoulders tense a little as he thought of the right words, knowing that she wouldn’t like them. “I think it’s time you get back out there. Go on a date...have a drink...let someone in.”

Her eyes slid shut, her hand coming up to rub her forehead. “Not today, John. Come on. Let’s not do this today.”

He lifted his hands in surrender, nodding. “Okay, you’re right.” After a few moments of tense silence while she worked and he hovered, Dig decided to change the subject. “How are the boys?”

“Great,” she answered, plastering on her best smile and nod. Most people accepted it, but of course John knew her well enough to see through her shit. All he had to do was look at her, and she slumped into her chair with a sigh. “Eli’s great. But he doesn’t remember. William’s having a much harder time. It’s just such a difficult age, you know? Being sixteen is weird. Being sixteen and only having  _me_ as a parent is...fifty kinds of weird.”

Diggle put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed, “you know you can always call me. William can always call me, too.”

“We probably should take you up on that,” Felicity scoffed, “he listens to you more than he listens to me.”

“I think that means you’re doing something right,” John teased, making her laugh again.

After leaving the bunker, Felicity stopped by the florist and picked up a bouquet of flowers. Then she made her way slowly through the cemetery just as the sun was setting.

She’d always hated cemeteries, even as a kid. But she especially hated the one in Starling that she’d spent a lot of time in over the last five years. Growing up, she’d watched way too much Buffy the Vampire Slayer and it freaked her out when her mom had brought her to a great aunt’s funeral. She’d never wanted a reason to step foot in there again. Sadly, her line of work made her visits here frequent.

Now Felicity hated the cemetery because every day that she was there, she wished she didn’t have to be. 

She’d also walked through it so many times that she didn’t have to think about where she was going. She could just look up at the trees and the sun shining through their branches and think about other things. Her mind knew when to stop.

With a sigh, she approached the gray marble headstone as slowly as she always did, setting the flowers down in front of it before she took a seat. “Happy birthday, Oliver.”

Of course, she didn’t expect an answer. But that never stopped her from babbling about her day. So, that’s what she did. She told him all about Smoak Tech and working with Curtis. She filled him in on how John, Lyla and JJ were. And like usual, she saved the best for last. “Eli finally found his balance. God, I was starting to worry that I’d cursed him with my terrible coordination and grace. The kid was coming home with so many bumps and bruises,” she shook her head, “but now I can’t get him to slow down. He’s impressively agile for a five year old. And he reminds me of you...so headstrong and determined...no fear.”

Picking at the grass beneath her, Felicity sighed, “and William...his therapist keeps telling me that losing two parents tragically is going to take time to heal. But it’s been five years, and it just feels like everyone expects him to just...get over it by now. If I feel like that...I can’t even imagine how he feels. Dr. Holbrook keeps telling me to encourage him to try new things and put himself out there, not to cut him so much slack. But every time I try to parent, I feel like he hates me.” Felicity chewed on her lip, “I think he knows I’m being a hypocrite, and it makes him so angry...what gives me the right to tell him it’s time to move on, when I clearly can’t, you know?”

Felicity rambled on until the sun went down, talking to Oliver about everything from his sons to the silly, meaningless details of her life. It wasn’t until she shivered that she realized it was dark, the warmth of the day gone with the sun. And the cemetery was suddenly very lonely, ominous, and creepy, rather than the place where she felt her husband’s presence.

With another shiver, Felicity stood up and brushed herself off, saying goodbye to Oliver before walking faster than usual towards her car. She kept her eyes focused on the ground in front of her, knowing that if she looked around the cemetery, she’d only get herself worked up.

Everything was fine. She was only freaked out because she was alone and she’d heard too many ghost stories in high school. She'd watched too many episodes of Buffy and had a vivid imagination.

Which was what she told herself when a shadow caught her attention, sliding across the dirt in front of her and making her head snap up in that direction. Of course, there was nothing there. Felicity clenched her fists together, “vampires aren't real. It’s just your paranoid brain, Felicity,” she mumbled to herself. “Relax.”

But then she felt something. A very distinct and eerie feeling of being watched. After eleven years in the vigilante business, she learned that it was better to trust that feeling than to try to convince herself it wasn’t real. She continued to walk, taking a deep breath to calm herself down, and then she let her eyes scan her surroundings. "Where's a stake when you need one?" She whispered to herself.

If she wasn’t so certain someone was out there, she probably wouldn’t have noticed him. A cloaked figure stood a few yards away, barely visible in a head to toe black getup, lurking behind a tree. Her eyes darted to her car, knowing that she was probably close enough to make a run for it before the creep could reach her.

 _Probably_ was a terrible word though, and not one that she was willing to risk her life for. Instead, she chose to keep her pace until she got closer, her heart jumping into her throat when she glanced behind her and realized that the figure was inching towards her. 

Finally, she reached her car, unlocking it and getting in as quickly as she could, locking it behind her. “Ha!” Felicity gloated, starting the car and glancing through her rear view mirror. “Take that, sucker,” she told the masked figure. He was closer than he’d been so far but as long as he wasn’t a meta, she knew she was safe in her car, that she could drive away faster than he could attack.

She put the car in reverse, prepared to whip out of the parking lot and mow the cloaked guy down if she had to. 

Planning on going straight to the bunker to tell John and the team that it looked like they had company from a creepy cult or something, she gave one more glance to the figure, hoping to see some kind of clue that might help her track down where he was from and what he wanted.

He hadn’t taken a step closer since she got into the car, hesitating on the edge of the cemetery, his body angled in her direction. His arms hung at his sides, and she hesitated too, wondering what he was doing. He didn’t charge at her or try to stop her, he just watched.

Allowing herself a closer look, Felicity realized that the mask covered his nose and mouth, only revealing his eyes. And damn, even from a distance, she could see how incredibly blue they were.

Intense.

 _I’d know those eyes anywhere,_  she thought instinctively, a small smile pulling at her lips. And then she slammed on her break. “Oh my god!”

Her headlights were shining on him now, making him squint, but all she could do was sit and stare, her hands shaking on the wheel. “Oh my god,” she whispered to herself again. 

He continued to stare right at her, like he was looking straight through the windshield, through her flesh, and into her soul. Slowly, he pulled the hood back, revealing hair shorter than she ever remembered him having, but it still made her breath catch in her throat, cementing what she already saw in his eyes. 

Then he tugged on his black mask, and she could see the rest of his face. His features were sharper, his cheeks hollow and his expression guarded and cold. But it was him.

With shaking hands, she opened the door, and he cocked his head to the side, watching her curiously as she stepped out of the car and stood on shaking legs.  _Everything_ was shaking, because she felt like she was standing in front of a ghost.

Felicity wanted to throw up. Or pass out. Maybe both.

“Oliver?”


	2. Part Two

The dream always started in the same way. 

He had it at least a dozen times each year, and he’d reached a point where even in his sleep, he knew it was a dream. And it made him happier than anything in the real world ever could. He always welcomed it.

_The blonde woman stands at an unfamiliar window, watching the sunrise. He can hear the ocean and smell the salty air as it comes in through the open window, feeling comfort and familiarity as he looks at her. She’s wrapped in a long white sheet, holding it together at her chest. Her tanned skin looks so smooth against the sheet, her hair moving gently with the breeze coming in through the window._

_He stretches, getting himself into a more comfortable position to stare at her. She is by far the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen...but not because she’s naked or because her hair looks like she’d spent the night in a bed with him, getting it perfectly messy. She’s strikingly beautiful because of the expression on her face._

_Her deep blue eyes are so full of passion and love, emotions he’s never felt. And she’s looking at_ him  _like that. Like he is the best thing she’s ever seen._

_Once she realizes that he’s staring in awe, she smiles at him. The most perfect smile, of course. He never expects anything less._

Then the dream always followed the same pattern, even when he consciously tried to force his brain to give him more. To let him see more of the moment that seemed so vivid. He would swear it was real if he wasn’t so certain that he’d never spent time in a beach cottage with a beautiful woman. He’d try to force his mind to let him hear her voice, to know what she would say to him.

_Instead, she climbs back into the bed with him, dragging her sheet along as she crawls on top of him._

_She lays on top of him, rubbing her chest against his through the thin sheet. Her hair falls over his face, hiding them both from the outside world as she gently brushes her nose against his. Then, out of instinct and reaction to her, he brings his hand to her face, gliding his thumb across her cheek before burying his fingers in her soft curls._

_She sighs, her eyes slipping shut contentedly. And then she kisses him, and he gets so lost in it that it feels like he’s been in that bed with her for hours, just moving slowly with her as she explores his mouth with hers._

Yet, he’d always wake up before he got to see what would happen next. What she would do next. And as wonderful as the dream always was, he’d wake up frustrated.  _Uncomfortable_ because of how his body would react to all the kissing and touching. Angry that it had to end.

This was no place to be having the dream, but he couldn’t control when she chose to grace his sleep. 

_He listens to the waves and feels the warm breeze as his dream girl kisses him, her lips pressing against his lazily. And he feels more love and passion in his sleep than he ever has with a woman in real life._

She was in the middle of sliding her tongue across his bottom lip when he was jolted awake.

The plane he was on stalled, and his eyes snapped open.

Maseo nodded to him from across the aisle, “Al Sah-Him, we’re almost ready to land. We’ve made it to Starling City.”

Looking down at the unfamiliar city beneath him, Al Sah-Him took a moment to rearm himself with his armor. The dream woman never failed to throw him off kilter, but now wasn’t the time. Instead, he cleared his mind, focusing on the mission. 

Ra’s al Ghul’s daughter was the greatest annoyance in his life. She was constantly running away from home, causing her father to send assassins to do a babysitter’s job. He was not a babysitter. And he knew that dragging Nyssa back to Nanda Parbat was a pointless fight. Ra’s didn’t have the strength to kill her, so it was only a matter of time until she found her way out of captivity again.

The demon’s head had been trying to arrange their marriage for years, but Nyssa always found a way to slip through the cracks before the ceremony. Not that he was complaining. In truth, he was relieved, while Ra’s was furious. 

Still, it was his duty. Bring Nyssa back unharmed. Usually they’d find her hiding out in remote corners of the world, off the grid and unrecognizable. So he had to admit that he was intrigued about why she’d come to this place. This city.

With their plane on a rooftop, Maseo led him silently through Starling, “what do you think?” He asked cautiously at one point.

Al Sah-Him glanced around at the tall, crumbling, ugly buildings, inhaling the muggy and tainted air. “Let’s get the girl and go,” he answered.

Maseo nodded, pointing at a brick building that looked just like all the others. “Last our men knew, she was staying here.” Without answering, Al Sah-Him walked in first, and the two of them broke down every door in the building, searching for Nyssa. When they reached the top, Maseo sighed, “she’s not here.”

His eyes flickered to his colleague, but he stayed silent. Clearly, they’d hit a dead end. He walked over to the window, looking down at the gray and empty street. Just as he was about to turn away, the sound of a bell caught his attention. It was coming from some kind of flower shop below, probably the most colorful thing he’d seen in this place.

But the woman who walked out of the door made him freeze. She had her nose pressed against the bouquet she held, smelling the flowers. Her hair was in a tight ponytail and she had makeup on, but he recognized her instantly. Especially when she pulled back from her flowers, smiling softly down at them before getting into her car. The way she smiled...it was like it was for him. Because it was  _his_ smile. The woman in his dream always smiled like that when she looked at him. The woman in his dream also looked exactly like the stranger on the street below him. “Impossible...”

“What is it?” Maseo asked.

Al Sah-Him spun quickly away from the window, not wanting the other assassin to see the girl. He opened his mouth, searching for an excuse, a reason to get away, but he knew that there wasn’t one. They were members of The League of Assassins...if he tried to leave, Maseo would only follow.

With a sigh, Al Sah-Him turned quickly on his colleague, wrapping his arm around the man’s neck and squeezing with enough pressure to kill him, as far as appearance was concerned. He knew that this was the best way to do this, that Maseo would be unconscious for at least six hours or until he came back to revive him.

Following the woman was easy enough. She’d only driven a few blocks away, and he’d be a pretty pathetic assassin if he didn’t know how to catch her trail.

He caught sight of her as she walked through a cemetery, and he kept his distance as he watched. Her features were  _exactly_ as he knew them; the array of shades in her blonde hair, the gorgeous deep blue of her eyes, even her ass was recognizable, looking just as perfect beneath the dress she wore as it did beneath the sheet she’d wear in his dream. She wasn’t as tan, and she looked slightly different with the makeup and glasses and hair tied up, but it was  _her_. 

It made him feel like he was seeing a ghost.

Although, the irony was that she was real and the woman in his head would technically be the bizarre recreation of her. Had he seen her before? Had his brain simply noticed her once in passing, recognized her beauty, and latched onto it? He racked his thoughts, trying to remember when the dreams first started and where he’d been around that time.

Coming up blank, he stared at the woman as she sat down on the ground and talked to the headstone in front of her. Her hands immediately began to pick at the blades of grass, and he  _had_ to get closer. Pushing his hood over his head and his mask over his face, he took silent steps towards her. She rambled on as if she was speaking to a real person, as if she’d get a response, yet she never waited for one. 

Intrigued, Al Sah-Him lingered until the woman got up to leave. He’d gathered enough information from her one sided conversation to know that the man in the ground was her husband. That his name was Oliver. And that she had sons. 

She mumbled a goodbye to her deceased, and then she took off, navigating the dirt and rocks on the ground in her heels. And he followed, too invested not to know where she was going now. Part of him felt like she was  _his_ , in some strange way.

He’d seen enough of the world to know that magic existed. But it always seemed to serve a purpose. A plan. So, what was dreaming about this woman supposed to mean? Was she important? Was he born to protect her? He needed to know their connection and why the universe had sent her to his dreams.

The woman muttered to herself the whole way to her car, clearly anxious about being alone in a vacant and dark graveyard. But he knew the exact moment that she felt his presence. Her feet stalled, her back stiffening, and he swore her head tilted in his exact direction. That meant he should leave, before she caught a glimpse of him. 

But...he couldn’t.

When she reached her car, he clung to the shadows, knowing that he had to let her go. He’d find her again, but he didn’t want to scare her.

It was impossible not to stare as she started to drive away, leaving him in the cemetery with the rest of the ghosts. He didn’t know what to make of the hollow feeling in his chest. Emotions had no place in his shell of a life, and it’d been so long since he felt them, he could hardly remember what it felt like. 

For some reason, knowing that the blonde girl he’d been dreaming about was leaving him to the darkness, he felt empty.

Just as she was about to tear out of the parking lot, her eyes snapped up to his unexpectedly, and he froze, stunned that she even saw him there. Her eyes widened as she stared at him; a new, panicked expression on her face. He’d only ever seen her in the dream, relaxed and satisfied. It made him uneasy, and he wasn’t sure what he was doing until his hood was down and his mask was off. The idea of putting that expression on her face, of terrifying her, instantly made him want to comfort her.

Recognition crossed her face, and in the next moment, she was stepping out of her car. “Oliver?” 

She whimpered the name, her eyebrows furrowing in equal parts confusion and disbelief.

Her skin was pale, her hands shaking at her sides. He noticed all of it, but he also couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. She’d called the man in the grave by that name. 

Oliver. 

Her husband.

Suddenly, the woman swayed on her feet, her eyes glazing over before fluttering closed, and he moved towards her with trained speed, catching her within mere inches before her head hit the pavement. 

Al Sah-Him scooped her up into his arms, glancing around the dark and empty space, unsure what to do with her. He looked down at her one more time, shaking her gently without a hint of a conscious response. Then he paused, analyzing the features of her face. 

His mind flashed to a foreign place; a dimly lit bedroom with this woman asleep in a bed. It wasn’t the beach house he usually dreamed about. It was somewhere else. She had on the same glasses that she wore now, a detail that was new to him. The same peaceful expression was on her face in his mind’s eye, her cheek pressed against a book that she’d apparently fallen asleep reading.

He got the urge to remove her glasses, take the book away and turn the light off to let her sleep more comfortably, but just as quickly as the scene flashed in his mind, it was gone. Glancing down at her again, he let out a sharp breath, “what the hell?”

There was something so familiar about her, something more than just the coincidence that he’d been dreaming about her for years...although that was definitely strange enough. But it felt like something more. Pieces to a puzzle that were missing...a puzzle he didn’t think he had ever even seen the full picture of.

For a moment, he stared down at the woman, contemplating if he should just put her back into her car and leave her be until she woke up. Somehow that felt wrong, so he pulled her closer, reaching down to open the car door and climb in, settling her into his lap.

He tapped a few buttons on her GPS and pulled up her most frequented location. Once he had an address, he slid her into the passenger seat, buckled her in, and started to drive. It almost made him worried that she was still unconscious when he pulled up to the building, but she was breathing, so he decided  _against_ using League methods to jolt her back into consciousness. Most of those were painful.

Assuming the address in her GPS was going to be her apartment, he was surprised to be staring up at an abandoned campaign office. He didn’t trust leaving her alone in the car, so he picked her up out of the car and carried her inside. At first glance, the place was empty. But aside from the fact that the woman clearly came here a lot, he also clocked less noticeable details. Shifted dust that should have long been settled. Footprints only a few hours old. 

Most of the disruptions in the room circulated around one area. One wall. 

Al Sah-Him approached it, studying the woodwork and easily seeing that it was a false wall. He found the trigger a moment later, squinting as the bright lights of an elevator shone in his eyes. He held the woman a little tighter, wondering what the hell she did for a living. 

As he got inside, he wondered if she was some kind of spy or asset for the american government, letting the elevator take him down, the only direction it offered.

The doors opened again a moment later, and he stepped through, keeping the woman secure in his arms. In a matter of seconds, the basement’s inhabitants noticed him and drew their weapons. Suddenly, Al Sah-Him had two guns trained on him. His eyes darkened, feeling instinct take over whatever muddled mess the woman had weighed his senses down in. 

The two men in front of him aimed for his head, but he took in his surroundings, playing out scenarios as a few tense moments ticked by. There were options. Escape routes. For him, and for the girl. There wasn’t a chance in hell he’d run without taking her with him. “Holy shit,” the one in the white hockey mask finally broke the silence.

The other man was muscular and tall, and he wore the same expression as the woman, just before she’d passed out in the parking lot. Like they were looking at a ghost. He’d felt like one for most of his life, anyway. “You’re not him,” the dark man mumbled, refusing to blink as he shook his head.

Cocking his head to the side, Al Sah-Him sized the man up, the gun pointed at him. The threat.

“Let her go,” the man mumbled next, but he didn’t get a response. “Put her down and walk away.” He said through his teeth, cocking his gun now.

“Hoss...” the white masked one said.

Al Sah-Him’s eyes shifted between them. He knew he could make it out with the woman. That he could be gone with her and these men wouldn’t have any way to follow. 

And he would. 

There was no way he was just going to leave her there and never question this again.

What to do with her, though? He couldn’t just bring her back to Nanda Parbat on the plane with Maseo and his future wife. Yet, he didn’t care. Something possessive flared in his heart, another emotion he’d never felt. Never bothered to be bogged down by. This woman... he would take her. Whether the men in front of him survived it or not, he would leave with the dream girl.

Before he could act on an escape, she started to stir, groaning and stretching her back. “Oliver?” She mumbled, her voice groggy. He looked down at her, confused again at the unfamiliar name. He waited for her to scream and jump out of his arms when she realized a strange man was holding her.

Instead, her eyes fluttered open, meeting his gaze, and she gave him a warm smile. “Hi,” she whispered, her fingers fumbling against his black leather as she opened her mouth to say more. But then she noticed their company out of the corner of her eye. 

“What the hell are you two doing!?” She screamed, her eyes widening. The woman tugged herself closer to him, pressing her chest against his in an attempt to cover his body with hers, like she planned on taking bullets for him should the men decide to shoot.

_What on earth would make her do that?_


	3. Part Three

_A/N: Warning some very light smut :)_

* * *

 

When she finally came to, Felicity buried her nose into Oliver’s neck a little more. She knew it was him before she even opened her eyes. The leathers were different, but with her nose pressed against his skin, he smelled the same. “Oliver,” she breathed, wanting to see him, to hear his voice.

The eyes that met hers were curious, beautiful...but not quite her Oliver. Something was very off. She chose to smile anyway, instantly shoving aside the bad thought. It didn’t matter. It was  _him_. “Hi.” She had a million questions to ask. She knew she should be confused. Angry. Upset. But god, how she could she be anything but happy?

Opening her mouth to offer something; food, water, a bed, some company in said bed,  _anything_ he wanted...it registered that Rene and John were hovering a few feet away. Guns raised. “What the hell are you two doing!?” She screeched. In her heart, she knew that her partners wouldn’t just open fire on her husband, especially not with her in his arms like that.

But she still panicked, scrambling to pull herself closer, to shield Oliver’s body with her own just in case, knowing Rene had a tendency to shoot first and think later. “Put those  _away_!” She demanded, using her loud voice.

“It’s not Oliver... There’s no way, Felicity...” Diggle said from behind her.

She spun around, her ponytail gently hitting Oliver in the face. “Put. It. Down.” Felicity seethed, glaring daggers at her friend. It was both unbelievable and infuriating that John even had to be told to stop pointing his gun at Oliver’s head.

Dig finally relented, lowering his weapon, but keeping it in his hand. A moment later, Rene did the same.

“He’s right...” Oliver mumbled, his voice tight. “I’m not who you seem to think I am. I’m not Oliver.”

Felicity froze for half a second, her heart stopping. They’d seen evil doppelgangers, metas that could steal identities, and at least one strange man who could create masks of someone’s face. 

No. It was him. She could feel it. “Of course you’re Oliver,” she whispered, “who else would you be?”

She meant it rhetorically. But as he stared down at her, he answered quickly, “Al Sah-Him.”

“Al Sah- _Who_?” Rene quipped from behind her.

Oliver ignored him, staring at her as she tried not to look too concerned. But then he asked a question that had her heart sinking into her stomach. “What is your name?”

Her eyes widened, “Felicity...”

“Felicity,” he said her name slowly, trying it out as if it was the first time he’d ever said the word.

“Where have you been?” She breathed back.

His eyes flickered from her to John, and then to Rene, before landing on her again, debating whether or not to answer. “Nanda Parbat," he said carefully.

“Nanda Par- _what_?” Rene chimed in again.

Felicity’s eyes snapped to him, “you can go now.” Rene hesitated for a moment, but then sighed and stalked off. Diggle didn’t follow, so Felicity raised an eyebrow at him, “you too.” John just shook his head, planting his feet firmly. She opened her mouth to argue again, but she could tell by the look on his face that Diggle wasn’t going anywhere. Not caring to argue with him when Oliver was alive, standing there holding her, she let it go.

“And you...you don’t know who I am?” Felicity asked.

“Not exactly.” He swallowed, his eyes glancing over her face as he adjusted her in his arms. He probably could have put her back down, but he continued to hold her, and she wasn’t going to object.

“What does that mean?”

“I’ve seen you before. In a dream I have sometimes.”

“And that’s why you followed me in the cemetery?”

“Followed you?” Diggle demanded at the same time Oliver nodded. She ignored John, her focus completely enthralled with her husband who didn’t seem to know he was her husband. The realization broke her heart, but it was hard to feel it. She was still riding the high of him being alive.

“So...” she started, trying to process it all at once and feeling like her mind was short circuiting, “what happens in the dream?”

His eyes slid from her face to her dress, dragging all the way to her knees where they were hooked over his arm. She bit her lip, her whole body growing hotter, as if it was his hands on her instead of his eyes. God, she wasn’t just desperate for physical contact. She was desperate for him.

He noticed the flush on her skin immediately, so tuned in to her and her reactions to him. His eyes lifted back to hers. “We’re in this house,” he told her quietly, “on a beach. You’re standing at the window, watching the sunrise over the water.”

She raised an eyebrow at him, because that wasn’t much of a dream at all. “And then I notice that you’re awake...and we...make good use of the morning?”

“You kiss me...and then I wake up.”

“Hm,” she pulled her mouth to the side, deciding that there wasn’t much she could do besides roll with the punches for now. Freaking out that he didn’t remember her wouldn’t do any good. “So you miss the good part.”

Oliver let out a surprised chuckle, the sound sending her heart soaring as she’s reminded again that he’s really  _there_. “Wait...” he said, “you know what I see? In the dream?”

“Yeah,” she smiled, “when we first got together, we wanted some time for ourselves. We had a pretty amazing road trip. One of those stops included a two-week beach house rental in Coast City. Usually you wake up before me, but there was one morning while we were there...”

Oliver just stared at her, his turn to be stunned. “That’s impossible.”

She sighed, thinking for a moment. “In your dream, what’s on the nightstand next to you? Do you remember?” She’s answered with a nod. “That morning was the day after our first night in Coast City. We got drunk, and on our walk back to the beach house, you hopped a fence into someone’s yard and picked me a flower.”

His expression didn’t change, “a sunflower.”

She grinned up at him, “mm-hm.”

“I don’t understand...” he mumbled, trailing off. He was at a loss for words, confusion furrowing his eyebrows. It occurred to her that he wasn’t feeling the joy of their reunion that she was. He didn’t know her as his wife, couldn’t feel the love of finally, and unexpectedly, being brought back together.

“The dream you’ve been having actually happened.” She said, seeing his eyebrows furrow in confusion. There were a dozen questions she wanted to ask. And he probably had just as many for her. “Where is Nanda Parbat? Who is Al Sah-Him?”

“Nanda Parbat is my home. I’ve lived there my whole life...” his eyes met hers and she shook her head. As much as her heart was breaking, it was comforting to see trust in his eyes. She was contradicting whatever false life his brain was wired to know, and he believed her. He trusted her, and he trusted his own gut.

“I am Al Sah-Him,” he said lowly, looking at her like he was waiting for her to deny it.

Felicity put her hand on his cheek, holding his gaze. “Your name is Oliver Queen. Starling City is your home. You protect it. And you protect your family. There are people here who love you... I love you.”

His eyes darted between hers, staring at her as if he didn’t even recognize the words being spoken. As if he’d never felt love. “You are my wife?”

She bit her lip, nodding. “Yes. And John is your best friend,” she gestured to him, watching as Oliver’s eyes shifted, but only for a moment. Then they were back on her. “Rene over there is one of your partners. We’re your team, and this is where we protect the city.” She lifted her shoulder lamely, knowing that there was a lot more to it than that, but she didn’t want to confuse or overwhelm him. So she settled for the most important facts. “And you have two sons,” Felicity whispered, opening her mouth to continue, but he interrupted.

“I have to go.”

“What?” She asked, her heart dropping with the abrupt statement. “Go where?”

“The man I came here with will come looking for me.”

“Who? Why did you come here...if not for us?”

“I came to find a woman. Ra’s al Ghul’s daughter fled from Nanda Parbat. She came here, and I am meant to bring her home.”

Felicity just shook her head, unable to process half of the things coming out of his mouth since she opened her eyes. The words didn’t make any sense.

“Ra’s al Ghul.” John said with disbelief coloring his tone. She glanced at her friend, watching as his eyes analyzed Oliver with new caution. “You’re a member of The League of Assassins.”

Oliver’s eyebrow twitched in surprise, but that was the most reaction they got before his features schooled back into indifference. “You have heard of us,” he said lowly, “not many have. They don’t live to share our name.”

Diggle just stared at him, clearly as confused as Felicity felt. “I heard about them when I was serving in Afghanistan,” he whispered, “I thought the guy just smoked too much of what he was selling.”

When Oliver moved to set her feet on the ground, Felicity clung to him, “please don’t go,” she mumbled desperately, panic settling in her stomach. She’d already lost him once. Not holding on to him now seemed impossible. “Stay,” she begged, her fingers gripping into the black material over his shoulders.

“I’ll come back,” he told her, his voice barely above a whisper. Her feet touched the floor, and his hands hesitated on her hips until he was sure that she wasn’t going to pass out again. But her fingers didn’t loosen at all.

“Please,” she tried again, feeling tears sting her eyes, trying to hold them back.

“I have to go...he’ll come looking if I don’t, and I don’t want him to find you.”

Felicity blinked at him, and his hands slowly wrapped around her wrists, nudging her to release her hold on him as his eyebrows furrowed. He could see how afraid she was, how panicked it made her feel to let him walk out the door. Oliver dropped his chin, looking into her eyes. “I promise I will come back for you, Felicity,” he whispered, shaking his head gently. “How could I not? After what I know now.”

Still, he waited until she nodded before he turned his back to her. And it took everything she had not to throw herself at him, cling to his body and refuse to move...which was exactly what she wanted to do. Instead, she stared after him until the elevator doors closed. Then she looked at John. “Follow him. Tell Rene and Dinah to catch up. I’m going to find everything I can about Ra’s al Ghul and this League of Assassins.”

After Dig and the others left, she spent the next hour trying to find some kind of solid proof that The League existed. But terrifyingly enough, the U.S. government didn’t have a shred of evidence in any of their databases. A.R.G.U.S was her last, and best, shot. And even that came up empty. With a groan, she let her forehead drop to the keyboard, not even caring that she was typing gibberish into her coding work. 

When Oliver had first gone missing, she’d been in denial that he was dead. Refused to even think it. It had left a tight feeling in her chest day in and day out, knowing in her heart that he was out there and she needed to find him. 

Then time continued to pass, and her hope flickered more and more. Until it was finally put out. She’d accepted his death out of survival, out of concern for her children. It was impossible to keep living like she was, her heart seizing every time a damn door opened and she waited to see if he’d come walking in. Her boys needed more from her. As did her team. And her city. They all needed her to stop holding on to a ghost.

Yet the man she’d fainted at the sight of, the one who carried her home and promised to come back...he was very real. 

The elevator finally started to move, and she jumped to her feet again, holding her breath until her team filed in, one by one, none of them meeting her eyes. Oliver wasn’t with them. “No luck,” Dinah finally mumbled as she passed, following closely behind Rene, going to change out of their suits. “He just...poof,” she threw her hands up, “gone.”

Pursing her lips, Felicity didn’t answer.

Diggle hung back, looking like he wanted to say something. She knew what he was thinking, why he was acting so strange. “It’s him, John. That is not a metahuman, or an Oliver from a different earth, or an alien. It’s him... _our_ Oliver. Your friend. My husband.”

He nodded slowly, raising his eyebrows. “Well I won’t say I didn’t give Christopher Chance a call on the way back here.”

She huffed out a laugh, and he smiled at her. Then more silence fell between them, and the humor faded. “You told me he was dead,” Felicity blurted.

Dig rubbed his hands over his face, “I thought he was,” he sighed. 

Felicity shook her head. “No...you didn’t just think. You told me. You convinced me that he was gone and he wasn’t ever coming back.”

“Oliver took off to chase Ricardo Diaz and didn’t come home. We tried to find him, Felicity. I followed every lead you gave me, and the last one...you didn’t see what I saw.”

“Yeah, because you went to that mountain by yourself, and refused to let me come.”

“You were nine months pregnant with Eli, Felicity. It wouldn’t have just been unsafe. It would have been impossible for you to come.”

“I trusted you to find him and bring him home.” She answered flatly, not taking her eyes off his.

“You didn’t see that mountain top. There was blood everywhere. I followed a trail of it right off the edge of the cliff.” Diggle shook his head. “I found that sword...and the blood on it was a match for Oliver. No one could survive that.”

“Oliver could. He did. You were  _wrong_.”

“He was dead. I don’t know how that changed, how he’s here with a totally new life and no memories of us. But I promise you, I didn’t have one  _single_ doubt that Oliver died that day.” 

 “Do you remember what I said to you when you came home without him?”

“I walked in here and before I could even speak, you told me if I opened my mouth and said that your husband was dead...that you would believe me. That there was no one else you trusted more than me.”

“Because I knew you wouldn’t put me through that unless you were absolutely sure,” she said, clenching her fists with a flare of anger. “I knew that you were still hoping he’d come home just like I was. That you wouldn’t let William and Eli lose their father.”

“I  _believed_ it, Felicity. I didn’t lie to you. I thought there was no way... God, to be honest, I’m still having a hard time accepting that that man is really him.”

Deep down, she knew that he was telling the truth. That Dig would never do anything to intentionally hurt her. That is wasn’t his fault...they  _all_ had believed Oliver was dead. But on the surface, she scoffed, wanting someone to be mad at. Someone to blame that wasn’t her. Because she felt like she’d let Oliver down. She didn’t save him.

As John and Felicity stared at each other, the door opened, and they both froze, waiting and listening to the footsteps.

The relief she felt when Oliver’s face came into view was like her heart restarting, coming back to life now that he did. “You came back.”

Oliver nodded once, “I promised I would.” His eyes danced with hers, seeming intrigued and pleased with her clear affection for him and the man that he was. He liked it. She cleared her throat, “is your...assassin friend...uh, alive?”

Oliver’s lips twitched into a smile, amused that she’d ask. “Yes. Maseo knew that Starling was the home of Oliver Queen,” he spoke as if he  _wasn’t_ Oliver Queen, “He will locate Nyssa Al Ghul, and I...I can stay...for a while.”

Obviously there was more to the story. More he wasn’t going to share. Her lips formed a hard line, “and then what?”

“I don’t know,” he mumbled quietly, lifting his shoulder and giving her a gentle smile that was so  _Oliver_. It made her feel warm. Even if he didn’t see himself as the same person, she could feel it in her bones that her husband was in there. 

“Well, I suppose we have a lot of talking to do.” Felicity gestured towards the back room, her eyes moving to John as she led Oliver down the hallway. She knew Dig wasn’t going to go anywhere. He’d be in the bunker so long as she was, but he’d give them privacy.

Oliver walked beside her, his shoulder brushing against hers, and she reached for his hand without thinking. 

At first, he pulled his arm away instinctively, and she flinched at the rejection. 

But he offered a tiny smile as an apology. When she started twisting her fingers together nervously, he slid his hand into hers, stopping her. It was something he always used to do; reach for her hand and hold it so she’d quit biting her fingernails or fidgeting. 

Felicity stopped at one of the makeshift bedrooms, containing a simple cot for sleeping during long nights or when they couldn’t go home for whatever reason. Although she and Oliver had definitely used it for other things on more than one occasion.

His eyebrows shot up as he looked into the room, and his eyes widened, glancing at her quickly. “What?” She asked.

Oliver let out a sharp breath, “nothing,” he answered, shaking his head.

She closed the door as he came into the room and started looking around at the bare walls. She’d always wanted to spruce up the rest of the bunker and make it more homey, maybe put in real beds since they tended to stay there so often, but she never got around to it. He shook his head as he glanced at the bed again. “What is it?” She asked again, “you can tell me.”

“I keep getting these flashes, these moments...I guess they’re memories."

“Memories of what?” 

He pinched his lips together, his eyes roaming to her chest before they fell to his feet, reminding her how adorable and shy he really was. Oliver shook his head, not wanting to answer.

Felicity stayed quiet, wondering if she should wait him out or if she should let it go. Deciding not to push him, she cleared her throat, “uh...happy birthday, by the way.” She offered, trying to find something easy to kick off the whole ‘you’re my husband but you don’t remember because you were brainwashed by some creepy cult of assassins’ conversation.

With the way Oliver stared at her blankly, she knew he had no idea it was even his birthday. Did they celebrate those in The League of Assassins? It didn’t seem like it. His eyes darken a bit, his gaze flickering down her body and back up to her eyes.

There was a certain darkness behind his eyes that she hadn’t seen in a very long time, reminding her of the man he was when they had first met. The very lost, sometimes frightening vigilante. As much as it worried her, she shivered, remembering how it used to feel...the man too broken to think he deserved her, but he had too much passion in his soul, too much love for her to deny how he felt.

He’d settled those demons a long time ago, yet there they were again, right in his eyes.

Felicity stepped closer to him, running her hand down his arm. “You’re home,” she mumbled, watching as his eyebrows furrowed. He didn’t respond, but his eyes fluttered shut as she touched him, and it was hard not to notice the reaction he was having to her.

It sparked her confidence, reminding her of the way he used to worship her, how captivated and effected her husband always seemed to be. “Oliver...” she trailed off, waiting for him to look at her again.

When he did, his eyes searched hers, “I...I was a good father? Our children...I was good to them?” She nodded firmly. “And these people,” he continued, gesturing at the door, “they trusted me?”

“Very much so,” she smiled, tears springing to her eyes again.

“And what about you?”

“I trusted you. With my life, Oliver. I  _know_ you, the man I love is still in there...” His eyes were so focused on her every word, believing it because he trusted her instinctively, but also because it was impossible not to. 

Felicity wondered how long he’d been living like this, feeling in his heart like something about his life wasn’t right. “Maybe you can help me find him,” she whispered. “I know that you don’t give up. You never stop fighting. So let’s fight for this. Stay. Stay with me so we can figure this out, get your life back...”

A long pause rested between them, and she was terrified that he was going to say no. That he’d rather forget about her, go back to wherever the hell Nanda Parbat was and forget this ever happened. His next question surprised her. “Did I make you happy?”

She smiled, nodding adamantly. “Happier than I’ve ever been.”

Oliver stepped closer, “I protected you,” he mumbled, staring down his nose at her. He wasn’t asking, but she knew he needed her to answer. Felicity swallowed, nodding again. “I treated you how a man should,” he whispered next, and she felt her heart start to race as he took another step, his hands grazing her waist. She gave him another nod. “I loved you the way you deserve to be loved,”

Her eyes fluttered shut, tilting her head up towards him. He was so close, she could feel the heat coming off of him. She could smell the delicious and comforting scent of him she thought was lost forever. She could practically taste him...and god, she wanted to taste him. 

His proximity distracted her, and when she didn’t confirm his statement, he asked, “Did I love you right, Felicity?” His voice rumbled in his throat, bringing her back to the countless nights she’d spent with her head on his chest, listening to him talk as she drifted to sleep.

“Yes,” she breathed. Her hands were on his waist without her noticing, but she carefully slid them to his back, testing the waters. Part of her was afraid he’d disappear as quietly and suddenly as he’d come home. Her fingers twisted into the black leather of his uniform, wanting to make sure that didn’t happen. She lifted her nose, running it gently across his neck and breathing him in.

“When I touched you...did it always feel like this?” He breathed back, the words wavering with emotion.

She nodded against his throat, flattening her palms against his back. The muscles beneath the leather were familiar, even if the suit was different.

Oliver groaned, his hands pulling her body closer until she was pressed against him completely. He opened his eyes to look down at her. “I don’t know how to be a husband or a father, Felicity. I don’t know if I can just...become the person that you lost. I have no idea if I will ever remember everything about this life that they stole from me.”

“It’s okay, Oliver.”

“But this...this feels...” He shook his head, “unlike anything I have ever felt before. Like the pieces are finally coming together. As crazy as it seemed...it just makes  _sense_ somehow.”

She nodded slowly, moving her hands so she could cup his face, gently pulling him towards her. His eyes closed as he took a deep breath. Felicity scratched her fingers over his buzzed hair. “It feels right,” she agreed, watching as he licked his lips and nodded, his nose brushing against hers.

They let one small, tense moment pass, feeling the electricity bounce between them. And then he leaned in, his lips barely touchings hers, letting her make the final call. 

As if it was even a question.

She pressed her lips to his gently at first; again, testing. She didn’t want to push it or make him feel like he had to be someone he wasn’t. She really didn’t care. Oliver Queen. Al Sah-Him. The Hood. The Green Arrow. He could be whoever the hell he wanted and she’d love him. 

Always had. 

He was alive...that was the only thing she cared about. That, and the spark that was still there, demanding their attention. Her lips grew more urgent, needing more. The tiny, warm flame in her stomach quickly turning into a forest fire. 

Oliver responded with just as much passion...and it was like five years hadn’t passed at all. He lifted her up, giving himself better access to her mouth.

“Oliver,” she breathed his name. It never took much more than that for the two of them to communicate in this way, and she wondered if that connection was still there. If his body was still tuned in to hers like it’d been before. His fingers gripped her tighter, his tongue coming out to taste her. “ _Oliver_ ,” she repeated a little more desperately now.

When he froze, she did too. She had no idea how he felt about being called Oliver. Should she be trying to refer to him as Al Sah-Him?

His eyes opened slowly, glancing down at her mouth. She could feel the burn from his beard on her chin. Slowly, he picked her up, guiding her legs to wrap around his waist.

He squeezed her ass as she rocked her hips against him, his own body thrusting gently to meet hers, creating the perfect sensation she craved. “Oh, god.” Then he dropped his mouth to her neck, his teeth nipping at her as he explored her skin. “Please...” she breathed, losing control over her mouth and her body.

He pulled back, his pupils blown wide as he looked up at her. She could see the arousal in his gaze as much as she could feel it rubbing between her legs.

With agility that she’d become accustomed to, like riding a bike, he spun them around and laid her on the bed. Crawling on top of her, Oliver pressed himself between her legs. And she let out a sharp breath at the sudden change, but didn’t hesitate to welcome him. He closed his eyes as she stroked his face, pulling him back down to kiss her.

Oliver pressed his forehead to hers as his hips continued to thrust, rubbing against her exactly where she needed him. But she was quickly growing impatient, needing to feel  _him_. It became too much when he opened his eyes, his gaze meeting hers in a silent conversation. In a silent agreement. 

They needed each other. Now.

“Oh god, Oliver,” she moaned desperately, her hands flying to his belt.

“ _Fel-i-ci-ty,_ ” he breathed her name as if he’d never forgotten it, as if he’d never stopped saying it.


	4. Part Four

_A/N: Warning for a bit more smut :)_

* * *

 

“What?” Felicity asked from beside him, closing the door and looking up at him curiously.

Oliver shook his head, wondering why the image of her that came to his mind upon seeing the tiny bedroom felt like an invasion. She was his wife, after all. But as he flashed to a very distinct memory of walking into that very room and finding Felicity there, it made him feel like he wasn’t meant to see it. She’d dressed in a pair of black high heels with a green bow around her chest. And nothing else.

The image was better than his wildest dreams, yet it actually made him feel a little jealous. Because the memory belonged to Oliver Queen. And he didn’t quite feel like that man. It was inside of him, but he still felt like Al Sah-Him. The disconnect was clear. He exhaled, “nothing.”

He could feel how happy he’d been when he’d found his wife dressed like that, he could remember how he’d practically tackled her onto the bed and started unraveling the ribbon. The Al Sah-Him side of him was fascinated with the vision. He’d never felt such playfulness, such comfort with a woman.

His eyes flew to the bed, realizing that the two of them had not been shy in making the space their own during their marriage. “What is it?” Felicity mumbled, stepping closer to him, “you can tell me.”

“I keep getting these flashes. These moments...I guess they’re memories.”

“Memories of what?”

Biting his lip, he knew that Felicity had always been sexy, and beautiful, and captivating, no matter where she was or what she was doing. Somewhere deep down, he knew that the way he felt about her had never changed. She had always been the woman who kept his attention and kept his heart.

Luckily, Felicity didn’t push it when he chose not to answer her question. In fact, she didn’t push him at all. Instead, she wished him a happy birthday. His eyes immediately traveled down her body, realizing that the whole bow memory had been her birthday present for him. He shook his head slightly, wondering what he’d done to deserve a wife like her. This woman had loved him, and he had loved her... But all of that was gone now, taken from him...and _for what_?

As if she could sense the turmoil behind his eyes, Felicity stepped closer and touched him, “you’re home.” He wanted to do nothing more than give himself back to her. To return the husband she had lost.

He wanted to be that man again. That husband. That father.

Whatever it took.

“Did I make you happy?” He asked.

“Happier than I’ve ever been.”

He continued to question her, coming closer and closer as she told him everything he needed to know, as she soothed him. He’d been a good father. He’d loved her the way she deserved to be loved.

It gave him hope that maybe...with her help...he could have it all back.

When Felicity wrapped her arms around him and nestled her face into his neck, he felt safer than he’d ever known. So loved and cherished by this woman. It was an intoxicating feeling, and her touch had the same effect.

He had no idea what they were doing. What any of it meant or what she needed from him. But he knew that he would let her take anything and everything she wanted. “I don’t know how to be a husband or a father, Felicity.” He told her honestly. “I don’t know if I can just...become the person that you lost. I have no idea if I will ever remember everything about this life that they stole from me.”

“It’s okay, Oliver.”

His heart fluttered at the name. Very quickly, it was becoming something he wanted. Needed. “But this...this feels...unlike anything I have ever felt before. Like the pieces are finally coming together. As crazy as it seemed...it just makes sense somehow.”

Felicity closed the space between them until her lips were brushing against his. He licked his lips, catching a taste of her sweet mouth and wanting more. His entire life had been about control, about resisting. And he forced himself to use some if it before he kissed her, unsure if she would want him to.

She moved slowly, carefully resting her lips on his, the pressure so light he could barely feel it, but he could taste her, feel her breath as it mixed with his own. And he had to beat down the urge he had to devour her. He forced his eyes to stay open as hers slid shut. “It feels right,” she finally mumbled, her voice so low and alluring that he could feel his control slipping. “Oliver…”

Holding his breath, he felt Felicity’s hands wrap around his back, “Oliver…” Something inside of him recognized her tone. Knew her voice and understood what she wanted as she said _his_ name.

His lips crushed against hers, instinctively sucking her bottom lip into his mouth, wanting to taste it, to appreciate the plump shape of it. And she groaned. Loudly. He could read her body perfectly, biting down on her lip, earning himself another moan. He responded with his own as he turned them around, easily finding the bed and laying her down on it. She spread her legs for him, her hands just as needy as he felt.

“Make love to me,” Felicity breathed, the words flying from her lips as she worked to shove his pants down.

Freezing for a brief moment, he opened his eyes and looked down at her. There was a part of him that was remembering Oliver Queen, her husband. The man just under the surface, but he wasn’t quite there yet.

There was still a side of him that felt like Al Sah-Him. He wanted her to see that. To know it.

He couldn’t do this if it was going to hurt her. And as much as it killed him, he had to stop and think for a second.

Could he do as she asked? Could he honestly say that with the war going on inside of him, he could love the woman beneath him? _Did he love her?_

Felicity’s hands found his face, her gaze meeting his, “Oliver, please don’t stop.”

And he remembered.

There were dozens of similar memories, similar moments with Felicity. And in every one, in every _single_ one, it had been love. He had never even kissed this woman without knowing how much he loved her.

In that moment, it was no different.

He nodded, telling her silently that he felt it. He felt everything she was feeling. His senses were on overdrive. Felicity hiked her dress up to her waist, and he lifted his hips, letting her take off his pants. With one more look into her eyes, he hummed. “Fel-i-ci-ty,” he breathed her name like a prayer and a question all at once. She nodded back desperately, pulling on his hips to meet hers.

Making love to her had felt like nothing he’d ever experienced, he was enthralled by her eyes, unable to stop kissing her. She was so responsive, it was impossible for him not to stare at her. The world could have been burning and he felt like he wouldn’t have noticed. He was so wrapped up in every touch between them and every sound she made. And he couldn’t shake the feeling that with her, it’d always be magic.

He felt something strong for Felicity, that was obvious. But as he moved inside of her, it was like Oliver Queen’s heart took over. The emotions that pulled him towards her were undeniable. Al Sah-Him was incapable of that kind of love. That kind of trust, respect, and passion.

Al Sah-Him was dead to him the moment Felicity Smoak rocked her hips up to meet him, murmuring how much she loved him in his ear.

There was no Al Sah-Him. That was a lie, and the gorgeous woman beneath him was the only thing he knew. She was the only thing he could understand.

Felicity was his home, and as more pieces came together, he’d made love to her accordingly. They didn’t stop until both of them were completely spent, falling asleep in the other’s arms, losing themselves in each other.

Oliver was still mostly asleep, awake only enough that he was aware of Felicity’s presence, her skin pressed to his with her head on his chest. And he really, really didn’t want to move. His mind jumped to another morning when they’d woken up in the same position. Half dreaming, he could smell Felicity’s hair under his nose, one foot in the bunker with her and the other in the dream.

_His wife groans as the sun comes in through the window of their bedroom window, mumbling her complaint that he forgot to close the curtains before they fell asleep the night before._

_He glances down at her rumpled hair, pushing it out of her eyes so he can kiss her face all over. The groan quickly turns into a sigh of contentedness. And then a breathy moan when he slips his hands under the blanket to feel her, to wake her up a little more..._

_She squeezes one eye open, squinting with the sun as his hand gently nudges between her thighs. “Good morning,” she sings, wrapping her arms around him._

_Oliver chuckles, slowing his hand down to tease her. “Well, it looks like I’ve finally found the secret to get you to wake up in a good mood.”_

_Felicity narrows her eyes at him, “more than ten years of knowing me, most of which we’ve shared a bed...you definitely knew this trick before right now.”_

_“I know,” he grins, “but it’s still fun to discover. Lie back,” he instructs, his mind focused on having a nice morning with his face between her legs._

_Doing as he says because she knows it’ll be worth it, Felicity falls back onto her pillows with a sigh, her blonde hair landing in wild waves across the white material. He kisses her once, and then he starts to let his lips trail lower. Her jaw, her neck, her shoulders, he kisses and sucks his way across her skin, enjoying every sound she makes and breath she holds in response._

_Caught up, neither of them hear the tiny footsteps barreling towards them until it’s too late. Their bedroom door swings open and crashes against the wall. Felicity yelps, and Oliver is grateful he has quick reflexes, covering both of them in the blanket as Sara Diggle storms into the room._

_“Is you’s awake yet!?” She giggles, her high pitched little voice shattering the sexy, languid energy around him._

_“Uh huh,” he bites back a laugh, “Sara, why don’t you go wake up William? Me and Aunt Felicity will be right out, okay?”_

_“Okay!” She yells, not needing an excuse to wake up her favorite person to play with her._

_“Close the door, honey!” Felicity calls after her, only relaxing once the bedroom door slams shut again. As soon as the room is quiet, Oliver starts laughing, hiding his face in her neck. She huffs, “it’s not funny!” Yet he can hear the smile in her voice. “I’m naked, Oliver!” His wife hisses._

_“Trust me, I know.”_

_“We’re lucky she’s not very observant. Or else she’d be traumatized. We’re traumatizing a child that’s not even ours. I don’t know why John and Lyla thought us watching Sara would be good practice. Also, I thought you locked the door.”_

_“I meant to...but then I noticed that you were very naked when I came to bed last night and I forgot.”_

_“Damn me and my hot bod.”_

_Oliver laughs, moving his hand across her stomach, across the bump that seems to be getting bigger every day._

As he woke up from the dream, Oliver could feel Felicity’s eyes on him. He opened his eyes, blinking and glancing down at her. She smiled sleepily up at him. “What were you dreaming about?”

“You,” he sighed. “You were pregnant, and we were babysitting a little girl named Sara.”

“John’s daughter,” She told him. He nodded once, remembering the man with the gun from the night before. His best friend, according to Felicity. He wondered if spending time with John and the other people in his life would have the same effect on his memory that Felicity did. If seeing them and talking to them would trigger the flashes like Felicity had.

“I forgot to lock the door.” He explained.

Felicity snorted, covering her face with her hand as she laughed. “Yes, you did,” she grinned, biting her lip. “So...you’re remembering things?”

“It seems that way...bits and pieces.”

“That’s good. I mean, that’s really good, right? Maybe with enough time, it’ll all come back.”

He swallowed, realizing that he was _terrified_. “What if it doesn’t?”

Felicity ran her palm over his chest, smoothing it over his scars without a reaction, as if his marred skin was as familiar to her as her own. “Then we’ll figure it out together. We’re a team, you know? You and me.” He met her eyes and smiled, seeing how much she meant it. “Coffee?” She asked, moving to get up.

Once they were dressed, he followed her back through the bunker. It was early, he could tell. Too early for the city to be awake yet. Felicity walked to the machine and started making coffee, “last night was...really nice.”

“It was better than nice,” he whispered, “that was…” he hesitated uncomfortably, not sure how to describe how it’d felt to completely lose track of where he ended and she began.

Felicity bit her lip, offering him a smile, “yeah,” she helped, “it was.” He smiled back, taking a step closer to her. Surely, if the memories he was beginning to remember were any indication, Felicity wouldn’t mind if he kissed her. Her smile grew as she realized what he wanted, and she happily pulled him close, pressing her lips against his.

The way she hummed when she pulled back made him want to pick her up and carry her back to bed. “We should probably talk,” she said lowly, “I mean, about the whole, starting to remember things...thing. We should have a plan. Ra’s al Ghul doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who will just let you go.”

“There is only one way to leave The League,” he answered.

“Okay, how?”

As he opened his mouth to answer, he heard the faint, muffled tap of footsteps above them. His back stiffened, and he had just enough time to cage Felicity between the wall and his back before two masked assassins descended from the ceiling.

“Al Sah-Him,” Nyssa nodded, standing up and pulling her mask down.

His eyes shifted to Maseo, “I ordered you to find her, not to bring her here.”

Maseo bowed in apology, “you will want to hear what the heir to the demon has to say.”

He felt Felicity’s hands on his back, her head peeking out from behind his shoulder. Nyssa’s eyes locked on her immediately, “this is her,” Nyssa bowed, “I am Nyssa, daughter of Ra’s al Ghul, heir to the demon.”

Felicity’s fingers strummed against his arm, “Felicity Smoak, MIT class of ‘09.”

Throwing her a look over his shoulder, he sighed, “Sarab, you will tell Ra’s that we have not yet found Nyssa, I-” he looked back at Felicity, feeling panic rising at the idea of having to leave her, “I need more time.” He had sons. A family he didn’t know about yet. He and Felicity had only just begun getting his memories back, and he knew that he was too far in to forget it all now.

“I came here to help you, Al Sah-Him,” Nyssa answered. He narrowed his eyes at her, and she continued. “There is a group of followers who have denied the leadership of Ra’s al Ghul. Some of them are as old as my father. They have been waiting for decades to take back Nanda Parbat, looking for the right moment to strike. With you on our side against my father, now is the time.”

Staring at her, he shook his head, “how have they survived? All who oppose Ra’s al Ghul have died at the feet of the demon.”

“That is what my father wants you to think. But _you_ , Oliver Queen, you opposed the demon...and here you stand. Over the years, many soldiers have regretted their decision to join The League. Ra’s has forced some of their hands, as he did yours, and many have fled from his manipulated honor. Ra’s has not been able to find them all.”

“You expect me to believe you?” He asked incredulously, “Why would they reveal themselves to you, daughter of the demon?”

“They call themselves The Thanatos Guild and their leader...her name is Sara Lance. Known to The League as Ta-er al-Sahfer.”

He cocked his head to the side, “I’ve heard stories about the woman who tried to steal away Ra’s daughter in the middle of the night. Every version I have heard of the tale...ends in a violent death for The Canary.”

“She was not trying to steal me, I was running away with her. And she is not so easily killed. I led you back here, Al Sah-Him, because our best chance of killing my father is with your help. You are his most trusted ally, and he has stolen your life and your memories. He has brainwashed you into the perfect soldier. I had to show you the truth.”

He pushed back against Felicity a little more, feeling her lips pressing against his back in silent support. And he closed his eyes. “You want me to fight this fight for you?”

“It is yours, too,” Nyssa smirked, lifting her chin to Felicity. “You must at least know that. Ra’s will burn this city to the ground before he lets you or your family live. And even if you were to survive, your life would be akin to The Guild, always looking over your shoulder, wondering if the demon was on our tail. It is no life for a husband and a father. I did not make it this way, Al Sah-Him. My father did. So help me put an end to this.”

The choices were looking slimmer by the minute, and he was certain that Ra’s had to die. Not simply for revenge, but for survival. “You think you will have the strength to kill your own father?”

Nyssa shook her head, “I do not know, and it is not a risk we are willing to take. The Guild and I will help, but you are the only one who he trusts enough to let his guard down for. You are the one who can get close enough to do it.”

“Oliver,” Felicity mumbled from behind him, “you don’t have to do this. We can help you. Me, and John, and the team. You can trust us.” She stared at Nyssa as if the same could not be said of her.

“I do trust you, Felicity…” he whispered back, frowning. The last thing he wanted was to put her in danger. Nyssa was right. This was his fight. It was Al Sah-Him’s, but it was not Felicity’s.

“The Guild has a serum,” Nyssa offered. “Along with other Lazarus Pits, they found a way to counteract the effects of my father’s compulsion. If you help us, we can get your memories back. Once we do this, you will be free to come home to your wife and children.”

The words were persuasive, hitting on everything he wanted. He wanted Felicity. He wanted to be Oliver Queen again. He wanted Ra’s al Ghul to die. But Felicity didn’t want him to go, and that was reason enough to feel conflicted, despite the very obvious threat that Ra’s posed. His eyes shifted to Maseo. “What do you think, Sarab?”

His colleague sighed, “I served Ra’s al Ghul for twelve years. And then he slaughtered my family, slit their throats in their sleep, because my wife would not give up on trying to find me.” The man straightened, staring straight ahead at his ghosts. “Ra’s influence was not strong enough to make me forget, just as you cannot forget her,” Maseo’s eyes flickered to Felicity, “I do not want to see your story end the way that mine has. History will not repeat itself, so I will fight with The Guild to honor my family. I hope to have you at my side... _Oliver_.”

Felicity’s hands balled into fists, squeezing his jacket as if she was trying to keep his feet planted. But he had no plans to run away or to leave her without a sound. Instead, he cleared the room, telling Nyssa and Maseo that he would find them later.

And then he stood in front of Felicity, seeing in her eyes that she already knew his decision. He wiped at the tears that began to fall down her cheeks. “This is not over, Felicity. I will come back, and it will be safe. I am not doing this for revenge. I want it all back, everything I lost. I need to do this, so that I can come home to you and be the husband you deserve, the father that my sons lost. Not _this_.” He gestured down at his League uniform.

“You are,” she said desperately, clutching onto the leather over his chest. “You _are_ my husband. I’ve lost you once, Oliver.” She let out a deep breath, “please don’t make me do it again.” Her eyes closed, and the pain in her voice almost made him change his mind.

But the facts were too hard to ignore. Too simple. So long as Ra’s al Ghul was alive, Felicity would never be safe. The sons he had yet to know, they would be targets. He would not be able to protect them. And he would never be able to come back to them.

“Felicity, I have to do this. But you are not losing me. This is how we fight. This is how I come home to you. And I promise I will.”

He held her while she cried for a long time. After a while, their legs got tired, and he sat down on the floor and pulled her into his lap, hiding his own tears as he tried to be stronger, promising her again and again that he would come back. That he loved her.

Eventually, he had to get up. He had to leave.

Kissing her one more time, he forced his legs to move, turning away from her. It was hard to convince his brain that it was time to focus on Ra’s. That it was time to leave Felicity.

“Oliver,” Felicity sounded so broken, choking back a sob. He didn’t turn around. He couldn’t...because he knew if he looked at her, he would never leave. “If you have to do this,” she inhaled a shaky breath, praying for her next words to be _please come back when you can._

“I don’t want you to ever come back.”

That made him pause.

He stood frozen for a long moment, weighing his options.

In the end, it was time to be Al Sah-Him. It was time to swallows his emotions and do what was necessary. Her life was worth more to him than anything. She could hate him, as long as she was alive.

Yet, he held hope that she might feel differently someday.

He had seen Ra’s break and destroy things much bigger than her. He’d watched the man set peoples’ worlds on fire, brought entire cities to their knees and didn’t stop until they were rubble and ash. Starling City, and everyone in it, would be gone by morning if he didn’t walk away from her.

Logically, the decision should have been easy.

But taking those painful steps away from her was the hardest thing he’d ever had to do.

 


	5. Part Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the feedback on this one! I hope you enjoy the final chapter! (Also pls don't tempt me to do an epilogue because y'all know I'm very impressionable)  
> Let me know what you think!!

“William,” Felicity said from the kitchen, “can you please pass me the salt?”

The eyes that met hers were hard, a blank stare before her stepson rolled his eyes. He picked it up off the dining room table, tossing it over the counter to her and stalking off to his bedroom without another word. She stared after him until she heard his bedroom door slam, and then she half sighed, half growled, pressing her wrist against her forehead.

“Salt pisses him off now?” Diggle mumbled from beside her where he was dutifully frying bacon on the grill. 

Felicity threw her hands up, “no, _ I _ do. Everything I say is wrong. Everything I do is annoying.”

“So, that’s how he’s been handling the fact that his father is alive?”

“Oliver’s been gone for over a month. I thought I was doing the right thing by telling William he was alive. I thought I was saving him from the emptiness  _ I’d _ been feeling. Having Oliver back, even for that one night...knowing that he was alive and out there, it made me feel whole again, John. But maybe I was wrong to think that William needed the same things I did. Maybe he wouldn’t be hurting so much right now if he didn’t think that Oliver was out there somewhere and  _ choosing  _ not to be here with him.”

“William's not a kid anymore, Felicity. And Oliver...he isn’t exactly choosing to not be here.”

“I’m not sure William sees it that way.” She closed her eyes, stepping away from the uneven and slightly burnt pancakes she’d been working so hard on. Oliver was doing what he thought he had to do. And he was doing it for them. She knew that. But William blamed her, and she wasn’t sure he was wrong to. “You don’t get it, Dig.” She mumbled.

Diggle hesitated, his eyes sliding to her before he sighed and put his tongs down, abandoning the bacon. “Then tell me,” he raised his eyebrows at her, leaning against the counter. “Because I like to think I understand Oliver pretty well, no matter what he’s dressed up as. And I know you, too.”

“I told William about Oliver because I thought it would make him feel better. But there’s a very good chance that Oliver isn’t coming home, so all I’ve really done is get his hopes up for something that he might not ever get back! Oliver was here, and I was so caught up in  _ us  _ that I didn’t even think to let William see him again.”

John was shaking his head before she even finished. “First of all, the man I saw that night would have been overwhelmed by that. He had a sole focus. It was about you, Felicity. He needed  _ you _ . And second of all, Oliver’s not going to die. There will be time for him to get to know Will and Eli again.” Of course, he was John Diggle, so he could see the flicker of disbelief on her face. Doubt. “He  _ won’t  _ die, Felicity. ” Dig said sternly, his voice harsh enough to make her listen.

“What if he does?” Felicity whimpered, “what if he’s really gone this time and the last thing I-” she bit her lip, “what if I lose him all over again? What if William has to go through that pain... _ again _ ? Dig...I honestly don’t know if I can survive my husband dying a second time.”

Diggle’s eyes narrowed at her, “alright,” he finally sighed, “I’ve been waiting, patiently, for you to spill. But this is enough. What am I missing?”

She glanced away, “I don’t know what you mean.”

“There’s something you’re not saying. And you might as well tell me now before I have to drag it out of you and exhaust us both for the next three days until you end up telling me anyway.”

Frowning, she realized how accurate that was. 

“I told him not to come back,” she mumbled to the pancakes, refusing to look at her friend. It was her dirty secret. The moment that kept her up at night. The words that had broken free from her lips before she’d even thought them. 

All she could remember was watching Oliver walk away from her, half terrified and half heartbroken. He’d been gone for five years. She’d buried him. She’d mourned him. She thought she’d be mourning him for the rest of her life. Then, all of a sudden, he was in front of her again. He’d looked into her eyes, talked to her, made love to her...And then he was leaving. Again. Her heart had been ripped from her chest one too many times. It was a roller coaster that she needed to get off of before it killed her. She’d begged the universe not to do this again. Because the world couldn’t be that cruel. How many times did she have to watch that man leave, not knowing if she’d ever see him again? 

The anxiety, anger, and desperation had built in her chest until ‘I don’t want you to ever come back’ escaped her. She hadn’t planned on saying it. And she knew almost instantly that the words weren’t true. But as Oliver hesitated, she’d held her breath, wondering if it would make him  _ stay _ .

“You were angry, Felicity.” John defended her. As he always did. “You were hurt and upset. Oliver understands that. He knows that.”

“ _ Oliver _ does,” she whispered, turning to look at him with watery eyes. “My husband knows me like the back of his hand. He knows I would  _ never  _ say something like that and mean it.  _ He  _ would know that I was scared and desperate to hold on to him. Oliver knows that I will always love him and want him...but it wasn’t just Oliver that night. Al Sah-Him was still tainting his mind, and I-what if he listened to me?”

Considering that, John pursed his lips, studying her. Then he shrugged, “I think that Oliver Queen, whoever he is or thinks he is, will always come back for you. For his family.”

“I sent him to fight  _ the man that killed him _ , and he thinks I never want to see him again.” Her eyes swam with tears she’d been keeping to herself, thoughts she hadn’t said out loud. “He can’t focus if he thinks I’m mad at him, Dig. One argument and he’d be making mistakes in the field all night. What if I-what if he-”

“Felicity,” John interrupted, stepping closer and putting his hands on her shoulders. “You have to trust him. You and Oliver have survived so much already. You need to believe that you can get through this, too. That’s all we can do for now.”

“It’s been a  _ month _ .”

“He said it wouldn’t be easy,” John reminded her.

“But why wouldn’t he tell us what’s going on? Why didn’t he let us help him?” Felicity mumbled desperately, wishing for the hundredth time that she could just be there. Wherever Oliver was. Helping and protecting him.

“One thing I’ve learned about Oliver...is that some fights are his.”

“Ricardo Diaz was  _ his  _ fight. The last time we let him do this, it took him away from us for five years, John. He went off to find Diaz and ended up being kidnapped and brainwashed by a cult of assassins.”

“I know. Which is why I’m so certain that Oliver would never let that happen again. He's coming back, Felicity. We have to believe that.”

Felicity bit down on her lip, stiffening slightly when Dig wrapped his arms around her. But then she relaxed, accepting the hug and returning it. “Go see what Eli’s up to,” he gestured towards the playroom. “But send Lyla out here, tell her she has some pancakes to fix.”

Rolling her eyes, Felicity nodded and headed for the hallway. 

Eli was reading animatedly to Lyla, making up most of the words and only spewing the ones he remembered from the countless other times he’d read Where the Wild Things Are. To her credit, Lyla was listening intently, pretending as if every page was a brand new shock. “Dig needs you to fix my kitchen nightmare...again.”

Lyla grinned knowingly, groaning as she got up from the floor. “Wouldn’t be family dinner if I didn’t,” she sang as she ruffled Eli’s hair and skipped off to help her husband save the food. 

Eli stared up at her with big blue eyes that had yet to stop surprising her in five years, they were identical to his father’s. “Momma,” he whispered, setting the book aside, “new story?”

He lifted his arms in the air, and Felicity easily picked him up, wandering over to the large bookshelf in the playroom.

“Daddy,” Eli said, and Felicity hummed, familiar with Eli’s ritual of pointing out Oliver in the photo that rested on the shelf. He may not remember who Oliver is, but Felicity made sure to have pictures all over the house. She wanted Eli to know that face. To know how excited Oliver had been when they found out they were pregnant. How much he’d loved him, even if they hadn’t technically met. And it always made her heart swell when Eli would point Oliver out in the photos, letting the room know that he recognized the man as his father.

She browsed through the children’s books, letting her thoughts wander as she stared at the picture, lost in the differences she could see between the man in the photograph and the one who had shown up at the graveyard that night. She waited for Eli to lean over and pull his choice off the shelf, staring at the easy smile on Oliver's face. It was always a different feeling when she looked at the snapshots around the house now, like her brain was trying to make her husband coexist with the man she’d seen a month ago, Al Sah-Him. They were both a part of him, now.

After a moment, her son whispered “hi, daddy.”

Felicity sighed, “yeah. Hi, daddy," she mumbled.

“Hi, daddy.” Eli said again, a little louder this time. Her eyebrows furrowed, glancing up at him and realizing that his eyes weren’t on the photo at all. 

He was looking out the window. 

She followed his gaze, her eyes focusing on the man below them. 

Oliver stood on the sidewalk with his hands in his pockets, pacing in front of the building. “Daddy’s home,” Eli stated simply, as if it  _ wasn’t  _ a big deal. As if his dad was just home from work and it happened every day.

Unsurprisingly, Oliver could feel their attention on him, and his eyes flickered up to the window. As he looked up at them, Eli let out an excited giggle, rocking in her arms like he wanted to jump down and take off. She held on tighter, and Eli compromised by waving, “Hi, daddy!” He yelled, rearing towards the window. 

A smile tugged at the corner of Oliver’s mouth, his eyes fixed on Eli now. And he raised his hand to wave back. Eli turned to look at her, “momma, daddy’s home and he needs to come in before he catches a cold. It's too chilly to play outside tonight.” He repeated the reasoning she'd given him earlier that night when he'd asked to go to the park.

Felicity nodded, her eyes still on Oliver. Leave it to a toddler to make the most complicated things seem simple.  _ Daddy’s home and he needs to come inside.  _ Oliver made himself look away from Eli, to find her gaze, and he had a smile for her, too. 

Felicity turned around, her heart slamming against her chest. She hurried down the hallway, bringing Eli into the kitchen and thrusting him right into Dig’s arms. “Felicity, what-”

She ignored him, feeling like she wouldn’t be able to breathe until she was out there, until she was face to face with her husband and could know that he wasn’t going to be gone by morning again. She felt panic set in, afraid of whether or not he’d disappear by the time she got down there. 

But there was also excitement rising in her throat. Optimistic hope. God, she just  needed to touch him. Look into his eyes that had a way of convincing her that everything was going to be okay, even when he wasn't sure of it himself.

And she ignored John and Lyla as they asked her what was going on, focused on getting her coat and shoes on. Eli answered for her anyway, “Daddy’s home,”

“Daddy’s...what?” Lyla moved from the kitchen, all three of them following her down the hall as she practically sprinted towards the door.

There would be time for explanations. For reunions. He just had to  _ stay _ .

Oliver had crossed the street when she came out of the building, and she didn’t slow down until she was hugging him, throwing herself into the arms that he opened for her. His hand ran through her hair as he buried his face in her neck. “Hey,” he whispered.

She gripped both of her arms around his neck, her throat tightening. “You came home.”

“I’m so sorry, Felicity,” he dove into an apology, “I should have handled it better. I should have included you...trusted you to keep yourself safe. I should have put more faith in how I felt about you, how I’ve always felt about you...I should have-”

“I told you not to come back,” she choked, tears falling freely. “I sh-shouldn’t have said that. Oliver, I didn’t-” He shook his head insistently, hands moving to cup her face. “Please understand that I-I didn’t mean it.” She couldn’t stop the sobs that rattled her chest, and she knew there were more than a few people staring as she cried, “I didn’t mean it!”

“I know,” he soothed, smiling gently as he tried to comfort her, “sh, sh, it’s okay.” But she couldn’t stop crying. Oliver’s eyebrows furrowed with concern, “Felicity, it’s all right. Breathe, honey.” He whispered, stroking his fingers over her cheeks until she looked at him. “You’re okay, it’s all okay. I'm just so happy to see you.” he smiled again; a natural, gorgeous smile that made her start to believe him. 

“I told you never to come back,” she whimpered this time, her fists clenching onto his shirt, feeling like she needed a grip on him to keep him where he was. "I was afraid you were going to listen."

Oliver shook his head, wrapping his arms around her and pressing his lips to her cheek, kissing the tears. “You’re not very convincing,” he whispered; a familiar, heart-warming tone of teasing in his voice. He was trying to make her feel better. In such an _Oliver_ way. It made her a little breathless.

Felicity breathed out a laugh, looking into his eyes and seeing his strength. “I love you,” she told him with a tiny shrug. “ _That's_ the truth. I want you here. I want you  _ home _ . I want you forever. This is where you belong...nothing else matters.”

Oliver closed his eyes, touching his forehead to hers, “you have no idea how incredible it is to hear you say that.”

“Is everything...Ra’s and Nyssa…?” She trailed off, not knowing exactly what to ask, but there were plenty of questions.

He nodded, his nose brushing against hers. “Nyssa is leading The League now, with the guidance of The Guild. Sara is her second and command.”

“So Ra’s is-you killed him?”

Oliver shook his head, “I was prepared to. I went back, and I worked with The Guild to plan his death. It was supposed to be me. Ra’s uh...he’d always planned on forcing Nyssa into a marriage with me,” Oliver pursed his lips, and she blinked, holding her breath and waiting for the rest. “Nyssa has been evading it for years. But we let him think he was getting his way. And we used the ceremony, when most of his men were in the same place, to attack. The Guild came in, and Sara Lance killed Ra’s before I had a clear shot.”

“Wait...are you saying-I mean, you don’t have like, a cult wife now, right? Am I sister wives with an assassin?”

He huffed out a laugh, but gave her a stern no. “Absolutely not. We didn’t let the ceremony get that far. Sara and I were both pretty adamant that we could pull it off before anyone had to say 'I do.'”

“So...it’s over? Just like that?”

“Well, a month of planning and waiting for the right moment...but yeah,” Oliver lulled, “it’s over. And I...am never leaving your side again. Prepare for a stage ten clinger here.”

Felicity giggled, making him smile. “I can handle that,” she bit her lip, “after five years...I wouldn’t mind a stage ten clinger. We can get handcuffs involved, if that might help.”

“Oh,” he raised an eyebrow, grinning at her, “I think that could be very useful. But I...I have a few things I need to say.” He straightened his shoulders, taking a deep breath. And she did the same. “First of all, I love you. I love you more than anything, Felicity. And I'm sorry that I left like I did. Who I was that night...I don't want to make excuses, but I just couldn't see any other way to keep you and our family safe, and to take out Ra's. I never wanted to hurt you, and I know that I have." He let out a deep breath, getting it all off of his chest. "Secondly, I want this. You need to know that I will be here for you and for William and Eli. I want you to understand that this is exactly where I want to be.” He waited until she nodded, telling him that she believed his intentions. "And lastly-"

“Dad?”

Oliver froze, and Felicity mirrored the response to William’s voice, each of them turning towards him. William stood wide eyed, blinking back tears. “Hey, buddy,” Oliver sighed, smiling at his son with so much love in his eyes. And a little bit of nervous hesitation, too.

Just like Felicity, though, William didn't hesitate to rush to Oliver, throwing his arms around him as tight as he could. And as Oliver hugged him back, it looked like five years hadn’t passed at all. Their bond stronger than anything that had happened in the last five years. Felicity watched quietly, grateful and moved by a moment she never thought she'd see. 

William reached his arm out and pulled her into the embrace. She kissed the top of his head, closing her eyes and enjoying the feeling of being wrapped up in the arms of her two favorite men.

“I’m sorry, Felicity.” William whispered.

Felicity shook her head, squeezing him a little bit tighter because he had nothing to apologize for. He had a right to feel everything he needed to feel, and she didn’t want him to be sorry about it. “Sorry?” Oliver asked, frowning as he glanced between them. “For what?”

“Nothing,” Felicity breathed, nestling closer into his chest as she buried her face in William’s hair. It was  _ perfect _ . She would have time to fill Oliver in later; to tell him how William was doing, everything he’d been through and all of his rough phases. But she was  _ happy _ ...William was happy. Those conversations could wait.

She had no idea how long they stood there, but eventually the Diggles came outside, too. Eli was in John’s arms with a syrup stained shirt and a big smile. “Hi, daddy,” he said, as effortlessly as he had earlier. “We been waiting. I had pancakes!”

Oliver’s eyebrows shot up, taken aback by the toddler’s comfort. He couldn’t take his eyes off of his son, a special spark in his gaze that only Eli could bring out.

She recognized the emotion on Oliver’s face; the awe, like he couldn’t believe that they’d made such a cute and endearing kid together. The boy had a heart that seemed too big for his little body. And anyone who knew Eli could feel it. He was a perfect mix of Felicity’s charm and Oliver’s passion.

Oliver lifted his arms towards Eli as if he intended to take him from John, but then he dropped his hands. “Hi there, Eli,” Oliver mumbled, smiling at him.

Eli smiled back, straining against Diggle to reach Oliver. 

Seeing that Eli wanted his father, John let go without question, and Oliver scooped him up without hesitation. “Momma and Will missed you a lot, a lot, a lot, daddy.” Eli informed him, reaching his tiny hands up to touch Oliver’s face, “your face hair is longer.”

Chuckling, Oliver nodded his agreement. “Daddy missed all of you, too,” he whispered back, a peaceful smile crossing his lips as he referred to himself as daddy. 

It made her laugh, remembering the dozens of times during her pregnancy that they’d talked about how strange it was going to be, having a child to raise that would call them ‘daddy’ and ‘mommy’. Oliver met her eyes, and god...it was  _ that  _ look. That captivating, perfect, happy comfort he offered her that could get her to do anything.

The connection was short lived though, Oliver's focus being pulled back to Eli. She vaguely registered John and Lyla quietly saying their goodbyes, promising to call soon to check in. Dig kissed her cheek as they went, but she couldn't stop staring at the sight of her husband meeting and talking to his youngest son for the first time.

“I didn’t miss you, daddy,” Eli said seriously, “I said goodnight always and momma let me have the picture so we could talk. ‘Member?” Oliver blinked, a deer-in-headlights moment where she could tell that he wanted to appease the child, to lie, but he knew that would mean he’d have to pretend to know everything Eli had apparently shared in his absence.

Felicity wasn’t sure if the sound that came out of her was a laugh or a cry, but she put her hand over her mouth, not wanting to take Eli’s attention from Oliver. Their son’s focus was fixated on his father, and vice versa. And she was loving every precious moment of it.

She’d given Eli a picture from their wedding day that he kept on his nightstand. Felicity knew he liked to keep it close, to look at it before bed time. She just didn’t know that he talked to Oliver after she'd left the room. But she could picture it; Eli sitting up at night to tell Oliver about his day, saying goodnight.

“Uh,” Oliver fumbled, “yeah, I always said goodnight to you too, Eli.”

“‘Course you did!” Eli giggled, and Felicity could see the flash of pain on Oliver’s face, knowing that Eli had been talking to him every night, thinking about him, and he wasn't able to remember that he even had a son.

“Eli, daddy’s still a little hurt,” Felicity said gently, watching as his eyebrows pushed together in confusion, glancing between his parents. “He’s going to be okay, but it’ll take a little while before he remembers some things…” There. Problem solved. For now.

“Actually, I-” Oliver tried.

“Daddy needs ice cream.” Eli interrupted, his voice serious. He nodded his head once in confirmation with his own authority. “Ice cream makes ouchies feel better.”

William turned to Felicity, nodding along with his little brother, “Felicity, you did say that if I got an A on my Calculus test that we could get ice cream...can dad come?”

She met Oliver’s stare, and he nodded too, excitement in all three of their eyes. Their blue, adorable, _persuasive_ matching eyes. Oh, she was in trouble now. How was she ever going to say no to anything, ever again?

At least this question wasn’t a debate. “Of course he can come,” she smiled, wrapping her arm around William. He stiffened at first, a reaction to her attempts at affection lately. But in the next moment he relaxed, leaning into her as they walked over to Eli and Oliver. Felicity ran her hand down Eli’s back, “you know what mommy is really craving?” She asked.

Eli scrunched up his nose, shaking his head. “I'm craving pancakes.”

She laughed, “no, baby, you just ate pancakes. We're giving you a sugar rush tonight,” she frowned, her hand sliding over Oliver’s arm where he held Eli, melting into the simple yet  _very_ appreciated act of touching him and their son at the same time.

“You crave things after you eat them.” Eli informed her, his voice full of toddler wisdom, making them all chuckle. 

Oliver turned his hand over, adjusting Eli onto his other hip so he could put his arm around Felicity. “Dad,” William started hesitantly. “Are you staying?”

“Yes,” Oliver replied instantly. William stared at him for a long moment, a heartbreaking moment passing as he wondered whether or not to trust the answer. Felicity rubbed William’s shoulder as she watched the disbelief turn to hesitation, and then finally settling on optimism.

“I can’t wait to show you my trucks!” Eli shouted before William could ask another question or Oliver could offer more assurances. Giving William a knowing  _ we’ll talk later _ look, Oliver turned his attention back to the child, nodding along as Eli babbled about his collection of toy cars.

They started moving down the street, and Felicity felt like her heart was full again. 

All of her pieces were being mended back together. She leaned into William, hugging him a little tighter and earning herself an eye roll. It was good-natured, though...different from the resentful teenager of just an hour ago. “I love you,” she told him, resting her head on his shoulder as they walked.

William nodded, “I love you too, Felicity.”

Oliver’s hand on her waist tightened, pulling her attention to him. He stared down at her, his expression echoing the perfect, absolute happiness coursing through her. Eli carried on in his arms, babbling just like his mother about his favorite truck, one from Uncle Diggle on Christmas, and Oliver smiled at her. “What are you craving?” He asked, leaning down to mumble in her ear. “Because I know what I want to taste.”

Felicity bit back the giggle, or the moan, that tried to pass her lips. Her heart fluttered at the suggestion, and she cleared her throat, “I want…” she said slowly, doing her best to ignore his tone. For now. She glanced at William, nudging him, “a milkshake. Made with mint chocolate chip ice cream...oooh,  _ and  _ strawberry ice cream. With whipped cream on top.”

William’s nose crinkled, “gross.”

She laughed at the look on her step-son’s face. In the same moment, Oliver froze, stopping on the sidewalk. His fingers caught hers, pulling her to a halt. 

“Oliver-” she laughed, about to ask him what he was doing until she looked back at his face. 

His eyes were wide, staring at her while Eli wiggled in his arms, whining for Oliver to  _ move your feet, daddy. We need ice cream. _

Her husband licked his lips, blinking as he stood. Her heart began to race, knowing that he  _ knew _ . 

“You...you want what?” He breathed, even though it was clear what she’d given away. The knowledge she'd known for two weeks and had kept to herself, filing it in a drawer in the back of her mind for later worrying. 

“How do you...you  _ remember  _ that?”

“I’ve been trying to tell you,” he said lowly, “it worked. I remember, Felicity. All of it. I remember everything from our wedding day, to the day you adopted William, and every day since I met you. Some other parts are still fuzzy, but Sara said it will all come back with time...my childhood...things about the island... But when I took the remedy from The Guild, the first thing I remembered was you. Everything we shared. Sara said it’s probably because this is what I want to remember most...my family. Our life...our _story_.”

“Oliver…”

“I remember everything, Felicity. I do," he promised. "I know that you are the  _ worst  _ cook, but you never give up on trying to get better. I know that you’re afraid of kangaroos and that you’re convinced you have an addiction to bubble baths. You would have lattes all day if I didn’t force you to drink water. I know that you are talented in one million ways, and I love you for all of them. I know how happy it makes you to give people gifts during the holidays, and how you’re the most creative, thoughtful, kind person I’ve ever met. The only woman I have ever,  _ ever  _ wanted to have a family with. I know that I’m a better person just because I’ve loved you...and I know...I remember...that I used to stop, at least three times a week while you were pregnant, to get you a mint chocolate chip and strawberry milkshake, because you were always-”

“Craving it,” she finished.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [After the Return](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18532627) by [laxit21](https://archiveofourown.org/users/laxit21/pseuds/laxit21)




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